


Tea Cups: a ficlet

by i_claudia



Series: Check/Mate [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ficlet, M/M, Schmoop, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have bought me a teacup,” Merlin repeated, and Arthur had to smooth his fingers over his own whiskers to keep from smiling overmuch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea Cups: a ficlet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flammablehat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/gifts).



> A tiny ficlet for flammablehat, because [reasons](http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh267/i_claudia/BESTTEACUP.jpg). 
> 
> Crossposted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/96200.html).

“You have bought me a teacup,” Merlin repeated, and Arthur had to smooth his fingers over his own whiskers to keep from smiling overmuch.

“I have,” he agreed.

“ _Why_ have you bought me a teacup?” Merlin asked, dangling the thing between his fingers. “I have no need of one, especially one with such an odd—contraption—attached.”

The contraption of which he spoke was a delicate porcelain guard which curved in a gentle arch on the inner rim of the cup, leaving a small hole through which the tea could be drunk.

“Because I wished to,” said Arthur, a bit mulishly, for he was unused to such a reaction to the gifts he chose to give; it made him feel foolish, which he resented. “It is to protect your moustache.”

“My moustache?” Merlin resisted the urge to reach up and cover his whiskers, which were in truth relatively sparse and were not confined to his upper lip alone—it had been some time since he had seen a proper shave. His moustache, such as it was, was hardly cultivated, and he had never felt a need to protect it, particularly not from a spot of tea. Good, strong tea might very well, he reasoned, do it some good.

Arthur flushed. “If you don't wish to have it—” he began, reaching for the teacup, but Merlin held it out of his reach.

“I never said that,” Merlin said, placing the cup carefully on the small table which stood just outside the curtains of Arthur's bed. Arthur's arm was still outstretched, reaching, and Merlin took the opportunity to catch at Arthur's wrist, wrapping his fingers gentle around the warm bones of it to pull Arthur closer still. “Thank you, Arthur,” he murmured, lips and breath brushing the familiar skin at the corner of Arthur's mouth. “I shall treasure it.”

“You needn't pretend,” Arthur said, unwilling to be so easily moved from his disgruntlement, but Merlin merely moved the last bare half-inch and kissed him, soft and sweet.

“I shall treasure it,” he said, more determinedly this time, and Arthur let out a small sigh—which he would later pretend was not from relief—and allowed Merlin to draw him down to the pillows.


End file.
